Comin' In On A Wing And a Prayer
by OutOfTheInkwell
Summary: A series of one shots for every episode of Agent Carter. Episode 2 tag now up! Peggy asks Jarvis why he wants to help her.
1. You Always Hurt the Ones You Love

So my plan is to write a one-shot or tag for every episode of Agent Carter. Time will tell if I succeed.

* * *

Steve never had a funeral. There was a memorial service of course, but no funeral. No body to bury and no grave to visit. A file in a dusty, dimly lit room in rarely visited area of the SSR is all Peggy has, but she can't bloody well leave flowers in a filing cabinet.

Colleen has a funeral though. The drive was a bit far, and she missed the service but Peggy made sure to attend. Standing well away from the mourners in a stand of trees, wearing a dark green dress and a black hat with a veil to cover her face. She can't be seen, she can't be implicated, but she's there. She owes it to Colleen to show her respects, to remember all of the people who died because she got to close to them.

She remembers kissing Steve goodbye. It had been flippant, flirtatious, with a hint of things to come. There'd been no time to say what she really thought. Her lips had not been able to properly communicate the depths of her feelings, but her eyes had held his and had spoken eloquently for her heart. Peggy hopes, anyway.

In some ways Colleen's death was harder to take than Steve's. Death had always been a risk in their game, that chance of rain on an otherwise sunny day. It was war and casualties were expected. They'd lost Bucky, after all. But Colleen was innocent, unsuspecting. Peggy had deceived her, lived a lie with a smile. There's more guilt attached to her simple, needed dishonesty than to the bullet in Colleen's head.

Peggy watches as the coffin is slowly lowered into the ground. A middle-aged woman sobs into the shoulder of the grey-haired man holding her- Colleen's parents probably. Every tear is her fault and she feels it keenly. Peggy wonders if there is an end to the list of damages she has caused, or if they simply go on and on, ever-widening ripples in a pool.

Standing alone in the shadows of the trees, she thinks of Angie, Jarvis, Howard, Sousa—people she could hurt, let down, or lead to their death. She's never quite learned _not_ to feel responsible for things. If the world needed to change she always thought she was the one to do it and there was no turning a blind eye to suffering or injustice. But her caring comes with a price tag, and she's never been the one to pay.

She thinks of what Jarvis said as they sat back-to-back in the Automat. One day she'll know if her crusading really was worth the pain—hers and everyone else's. If the lives saved outweigh the lives lost. Right now, standing in a cemetery watching a family that knows nothing of what led to their daughter's death, the cost feels much too high.

But perhaps the thing that brings the most shame, a thing she would scarcely admit to anyone, even Steve, is that given the choice she wouldn't stop. Being an agent gives her the ability to stop evil, whether it be evil men like Red Skull or boorish misogynists like Krzeminski. Watching her friends die—having their blood on her hands, weighs heavy on her heart. But what would it do to her to remain silent?

Handfuls of dirt are being tossed into the grave now, the family dispersing. Straightening her shoulders, Peggy turns and leaves as well. She'll look back and remember this day, she knows, if she ever lives to be old. And she knows that that version of her, the one that sees today in light of all the days after it, will still regret. But she thinks that if this entirely hypothetical person she could possibly turn out to be, would regret it more if she gave up now.

Peggy walks back to the bus stop, her stride as sure as ever, her chin lifted high. The red of her lipstick is stark and vivid against the pale of her skin and the dark of her eyes, and she looks nothing like a woman grieved. She has made her decision, chosen her course. Though there will be missteps and wrong turns, she has chosen her course for better or worse.

No matter what pain it may cause her along the way, Agent Peggy Carter will never give up her fight for justice.

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So, I've got a little rant and I wanted to wait until after the chapter to have my say (you can read it or skip it, whatever floats your boat). I've heard that Agent Carter is going down in the ratings, down far enough to be dangerous. I really, really, **really** do no want this show to be canceled. Please support this show in whatever way you can! Despite the fact that the show seems to be well-received, it's ratings are still going down. I think it may have something to do with the time slot, because Supernatural and NCIS come on at the same time. This is a great show and I want it to last for a long time. Encourage your friends and family to watch it, give it favorable reviews, tweet about it, blog about it, write fanfic, make vids, whatever you have to do. Let's support Agent Carter!


	2. In the Blue of Evening

Disclaimer: I do not own Agent Carter and I am making no profit from this.

* * *

After stitching up her leg, Mr. Jarvis brings her a glass of brandy "for medicinal purposes" and turns down the covers while Peggy sits in an armchair by the window. Normally, she'd resist having someone do something so simple for her, but right now there's a warm buzz in her brain and a dull ache in her leg and she's so _tired _and yet so comfortable and moving right now is out of the question.

Eyes half veiled by heavy lids, she watches the butler work. He moves with practiced ease through a ritual that Peggy is certain he has done hundreds of times, folding the blankets perfectly, fluffing the pillows, and smoothing the wrinkles out of the sheets. Skills that she can't really see being very helpful for espionage. The stitches in her leg attest that any expertise could potentially be useful, though, and the agent wonders what other surprises Mr. Jarvis has up his sleeves.

Colleen's face appears unbidden before her eyes and Peggy flinches away from the memory. Her fingers tighten around the smooth glass in her hand and she wonders how long it will be until this wound heals until the sting isn't quite so sharp.

The butler isn't like Colleen though, isn't unsuspecting and innocent. Right now he's the only person who knows exactly what Agent Carter is up to and genuinely wants to help her. And perhaps he isn't as unqualified as she thinks he is; he's level-headed, loyal to a fault, and can be surprisingly courageous for someone completely out of their element.

But it's been so long since Peggy had allies she's almost forgotten how to go about it. She's worked with men like Agent Thompson so long she isn't sure where she stands with a man like Edwin Jarvis, who actually seems to respect her as both an agent and as a woman.

"Mr. Jarvis?"

"Yes, Miss Carter?" Now he's laying her nightclothes out on the bed for her, looking as if he's trying to accomplish the task without actually touching or looking at the garments.

Peggy suppresses a smile at the excessively proper butler and sets her empty glass on the table. "Mr. Jarvis, I know Howard wanted you to help me, but why do _you _want to help me?"

He stops short and removes his glasses. His face takes a thoughtful expression before he answers in the same gentle tone he had used earlier. "You were given a nearly impossible task, and asked to do it alone. That seemed unjust. I know that I do not possess your training, or even any training at all really, but even if I was a capable fighter I still do not think that is what you would need me to be. You have proven after all, to be more than capable of taking care of yourself.

"I saw that what you needed was simply someone who saw you as you really were, someone who saw both your strengths and weaknesses and tried to balance them."

"And what do you perceive to be my weaknesses?" Peggy asks, genuinely curious. They haven't known each other that long after all, and she wonders what sort of hypothesis the butler has formed about her.

Jarvis sits on the bed and rests his hands on his knees. "I think that most of your faults are virtues carried too far. Oh, I'm sure you have the potential to be a perfectly miserable sort of person when the urge hits you, but I have yet to see that. I speak of your independence and obstinance, two secrets of your success. You would not be where you are today if you were not strong, Miss Carter. But do not let your independence make you truly alone, or your obstinance make you unable to change or see things from another's point of view."

"Whose point of view would that be?" She inquires.

"Why, mine, of course." Just like that Peggy is smiling ruefully despite herself.

Jarvis stands and slides his glasses into his pocket. "If that is all then I shall bid you goodnight, Miss Carter."

"Goodnight, Mr. Jarvis. Thank you for your help tonight." The words taste unfamiliar on her tongue, but come surprisingly easy.

"No thanks is necessary." He says, slipping out. The door clicks shut behind him.

Peggy moves slowly, locking the door and beginning to undress. Her thoughts have become drowsy and peaceful, thinking of her unlikely ally in an uncertain adventure. She still feels a little guilt involving Jarvis in her affairs, because willingly accepting his help seems tantamount to condemning him to a premature death. There is also her heart to consider, for it always becomes too easily attached.

A sickly, emaciated figure comes to mind. Steve Rogers was supposed to be an experiment, not someone whose ideals would breath fresh life into Agent Peggy Carter's struggle for justice. She wasn't supposed to love him either, but she had, and now he was gone.

Clad in her nightgown, Peggy crawls into bed and snuggled into the soft covers. _Oh, this is heavenly. _

Sleep is dragging her down slowly, and her eyes fall shut of their own accord. Sometime since walking into this room tonight, she's decided to trust Edwin Jarvis, to make him a part of her fight, to accept his help. She still doesn't know a lot about him, but he is sincere and has proven that danger will not keep him away.

Of course, she might just teach him about self-defense. Just because he's primarily her moral support and the driver of the getaway car doesn't mean he should be practically defenseless. And he'll need to know how to handle both guns and knives. Peggy could be injured again and might be rendered unable to use a weapon. Yes, she'll definitely need to teach him a few things.

Smiling to herself, Peggy finally drifts into the arms of Morpheus. Teaching the gentlemanly, refined butler to fight should be quite an amusing experience.

* * *

That last bit will probably never happen, but I bet it would be super funny if it did!


End file.
